Drunken Daze

My life is superstitious and lived like a metaphor, My heart is consealed by my brain is an open door. With an emptyness just beyond and a light with nothing to show, A stranger in the night, with a destination, but no knowledge of how to go. A blurred rendition of the way the world should be, With glasses used to look, but eyes that cannot see. My feelings are uncovered, but my conscious is so obscure, Our existance is so demented, but my soul is so pure. With the way we admire our world's everyday passer-bys, And a dormant expression throught our drunken dazed eyes.